


persona non grata

by manbunjon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Halloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 16:01:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16452959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manbunjon/pseuds/manbunjon
Summary: It was like the space that had grown between them had turned back time; like their first time again.





	persona non grata

Jon was absolutely sure that he had locked the door.

Even in the heat of the moment, even with her hands tearing at the buttons of his shirt and his tongue seeking hers, Jon was _sure_ that he had heard the lock click when he had turned the old brass key. Or…He thought he had.

Lysa Arryn’s house was as old and drafty as she. Every corner was thick with cobwebs; every window so caked with dust that to look through one was like trying to see through a piece of old parchment. The plumbing was a nightmare, having been unused for so long that for the first day they produced only brown or yellow water.

With every step the floorboards on the second floor creaked and the third floor was even worse, every door that was opened and closed producing a sound like that of a screeching sea monster. It would have been the perfect setting for the Stark’s annual haunted house, but was not very well suited for their post-Halloween family vacation.

Having been dubbed the Eyrie, the old manse was as stalling from the outside as it was from within. As soon as they had driven up the long curved path and seen the house standing halfway up the rocky, stone mountain Arya and Sansa had exchanged a look, practically waiting to hear a wolf howl or see a bolt of ominous lightning strike just behind it.

“It won’t be so bad!” their father had announced to the car cheerfully, putting the car back in drive. “Besides, as long as we’re together-“

“We can make anything great.” Arya parroted teasingly.

Ignoring the smells of stagnant water and burgeoning mold the Starks went about picking their rooms, in their annual tradition of oldest to youngest. However, so as not to leave Bran and Rickon perpetually last they rotated, leaving the two youngest to pick first during this trip.

Rickon, still young enough to sleep beside his parents, took a room adjacent to the master bedroom, excitedly running up and down the stairs so they he could hear them creak. Bran chose a cozy looking room on the second floor that had a window seat looking out over the frozen lake and the woods in the backyard, commenting on how the setting sun would be the perfect light for reading.

Next came Arya, who took a liking to an odd-sized room that seemed the shape of a yield sign, but housed a circular bed in the center of the room that allowed she stretch out as she slept. Sansa, not admitting to herself that the old house gave her the creeps, took the room between Arya’s and the one she knew Robb would choose- equidistant between the kitchen and the bathroom with the largest tub.

This year, as with every year, the guest list had grown even more. At first their family vacations only included family, then it grew to include secondary or tertiary family members. But starting when Sansa was a girl they had just began to invite everyone they _thought_ of as family. It was her father’s favorite saying: the more the merrier.

And that was how it was.

They looked forward to their vacations all year. The kids could play together, the cousins could catch up, the older aunts and uncles could take time off from their busy lives and see each other. It was the perfect time.

This year the guest list included her father’s siblings and their families, as well as Oberyn with his current wife and their children, their neighbors and childhood friends, and Robb’s girlfriend and her brother, as well as the parade of Starks that would cycle in and out as they pleased.

Sansa had been looking forward to it for months. She loved spending time with her family and doing their annual autumn traditions of camping around the fire pit and exploring the woods for adventure. She was glad to see her family and friends, frustrated that her second year at uni had kept her too busy to see much of them anymore.

And Jon.

It felt as though it had been weeks since she had seen him. Alone. Even though they shared the same flat it seemed they were always far from being left alone. With Robb, Dany, Arya, Jon, and Sansa packed into one house there was always something going on, study sessions, date nights, family dinners. That left very little time for the nascent romance Sansa and Jon had built.

When the rest of the family broke off for a tour of the local craft brewery Sansa politely declined the invitation, citing the desire to finish up her final paper so she need not worry about it for the rest of the trip. Before Jon had accepted she had managed to catch his eye and give him a pointed look, allowing he decline as well.

Within minutes they had found themselves completely alone for the first time in what seemed like years, with the entire manse to themselves and no one to interrupt their plans.

Suddenly desperate for her touch Jon had closed the space between them in mere steps, claiming her lips and sighing as he remembered how smooth and sweet they were. The pair stumbled up the staircase and to his bedroom, never breaking their embrace.

Perhaps the feel of her smooth skin against his callused hands had distracted him and the way her skirt had bunched up around her hips driving him mad with longing. Perhaps he had not locked the door after all.

Sansa’s lips were like fire on his, tasting honey sweet and just as soft. Her hands pulled his jumper over his head, her cold fingers skimming down his bare skin feather light, gooseflesh springing up where she had touched.

Her lips were messy and quick, flitting from his lips to his brow and everything between. It was as though she wanted to be everywhere at once, a feeling his hungry fingers understood, stroking her bare thigh, cupping her breast, brushing the hair back from her face.

It was like the space that had grown between them had turned back time; like their first time again.

Sansa’s mouth moved from his lips to the hard plain of his jaw, the tip of her hot tongue dragging down the column of his neck and leaving him trembling with want.

He settled her weight into his lap, moaning softly at how good it felt, how _right_ it felt to have her there again. Her legs bracketed his, the way she rolled her hips against his making him bury his face against her shoulder to keep from shouting. He had ached for her touch for longer than he could stomach, the only touch he had felt since was his own palm, though it was nothing compared to even the most chase of her kisses.

Her skirt bunched around her hips, the cotton of her knickers soft against his palm as he traced his fingers between her thighs. He head lolled back, red hair spilling over her back like fire eating away at canvas, and when she smiled at the touch he could see the dimples there that he loved so much.

She crossed her arms over her stomach to lift her cable jumper over her head and throw it over her shoulder. Jon gaped at her when he found nothing but bare flesh lay beneath, the scratch of his unshorn beard against her skin as he nuzzled at her making her moan softly.

The sound went straight to his cock, the way she rubbed at the front of his jeans making his moans join with hers. He fumbled with the zipper, lifting her body with his as he stood. Her legs clamped around him, the way his tongue laved at her collarbones making her pant.

Outside in the corridor Ghost and Lady stood sentry, scratching at the door as they whined to be let in. The scratching continued even when Jon threw one of the decorative pillows Lysa had embellished in sloppy letters at the door, suddenly accompanied by a low howl.

Sansa chuckled, her fingers hooking around the sides of her smalls and pulling until they fell to her ankles. “Sweet boy.” She murmured, Jon unsure whether she was speaking to him or Ghost. “I thought he was playing with Lady.”

His mouth found her breasts again, his tongue delicately circling each peaked nipple through the thin fabric of her bra, leaving a long trail of hot, wet kisses across her chest and stomach down to her ribcage.

“Last time I saw them they weren’t exactly fighting.” Jon said, the way he met her eye from between her breasts making her cheeks darken. Perhaps they were more similar to their owners than he had thought.

The scratching became suddenly louder. “Bloody animal.” Muttered Jon. Just as he was about to get up and allow the damned beasts enter Sansa clicked her tongue sharply enough to make Jon’s eardrums pop. All sound from the other side of the door stopped.

Jon fixed her with an impressed glance, glad to be free to have her without distraction. She was reaching for his pants, the way her fingers slipped passed the buttons without pause making him gasp.

The knob of the door began to turn with a grating, metallic creak. Jon’s head turned towards the sound so sharply he heard a crack. Sansa was off his lap in a moment, struggling to find the jumper she had abandoned. The door was opening, horribly slow, the suspense of who stood on the other end of the door only growing as Sansa tried to bury herself beneath the thick down comforter.

As the door opened Jon felt his heart stall in his chest. He prayed to every God in Westeros that Sansa’s body could be mistaken as a pillow.

“G’morning.” said Ned Stark. He looked cheerful in a hand-decorated jumper that Jon recognized as Rickon’s handiwork. “Sorry to barge in, unannounced. I called from downstairs but I s’pose you didn’t hear.

“Oh.” Was all Jon could manage. He was painfully aware of how he must look, breathless and disheveled, the blankets lifted up to his chin.

“So-” continued Ned, crossing the room. There was a look in his eye Jon did not recognise. “I was thinking we might carve a pumpkin today. What do you think? The kids can’t seem to agree so I was thinking this year we might have one pumpkin each. That way they each can do what they wanted!”

“That sounds great.” Said Jon, sure that his face was a shade of red never before seen in nature.

To his horror Ned sat down on the edge of his bed, the frame creaking loudly enough that for a moment Jon feared it would snap beneath their combined weight. Sansa bit down on the side of Jon’s pillow as her father sat heavily upon her arm.

“Painfully uncomfortable, isn’t it?” he asked, trying to find a more comfortable position to sit. “There are still some free rooms if you’d like?” he said, prodding the mattress. “Can’t have you sleeping on this ratty thing. Gods what is that-“

Jon could only watch as Ned stood, brows furrowed as he lifted the blanket and came face to face with someone all too familiar.

A long, silent moment passed between them. Jon was not sure whether he should apologize or run screaming from the manse. Sansa wasn’t sure whether she would ever be able to face her father again. Ned wasn’t sure how he hadn’t recognized what he was sitting on.

“Well.” Ned Stark said finally, calmly brushing out the pleats in his trousers. “I am just starving. I’ve got to eat the pumpkin patch.” Jon and Sansa stared back at the man. “I mean- I’ve got to get the pumpkin patch!” he spluttered. “I’ve got to eat eggs. Erm. The fresh eggs. Picked them up this morning at the um…at the...store.” He finished, every ounce of blood in his body rushing suddenly to his face. “Have a…morning.”

Sansa’s father closed the door behind him, filling the room with the distinct sound of the lock sliding fully into place.

Jon and Sansa lay immobilized, staring up at the ceiling, mortification spreading through them like sickness. Neither spoke, clutching the blankets half over their faces.

Over the side of the bed Ghost’s small paws appeared and it was a moment before the small pup managed the jump and hopped onto the bed. He licked Jon’s face affectionately, having successfully finished his job as sentry. On the other side of him Lady nuzzled his side pointedly, as though proving that she had reason to whine.

“Well…” Jon said, clearing his throat nervously. “I can never show my face here again.”

“Still better than the time my mum walked in on Robb.” Said Sansa.

“That’s not so bad.” Said Jon.

“In the shower. ”She continued. “By himself.”

Jon buried himself in the bed beside her, pulling her body against his chest. On the floor below they heard the front door slam. “I should have listened to Ghost.” He muttered. On Jon’s stomach the puppy pricked his ears and Sansa laughed.

She kissed him softly. “I think he agrees.”


End file.
